Too Late
by AngelusThursday
Summary: She leaves one with the beauty of the world captured on paper, and another with her son. The little one really likes the stranger who tells him stories and draws him pretty pictures when his uncle is at work. Destiel Slash shameless fluff and shmoop ugh


**A/N: Short thing, idk what it is. I've just gotten back on this site so I'm testing the waters and torturing the characters with shmoop. I make myself sick. I'm a horrible person.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the plot!**

* * *

"Hello mister." A pair of big blue puppy eyes looks up at him with a rather serious expression. "Do you have more lollipops today?"

Dean smiles and pulls one out from his bag, where he keeps all his charcoal sticks and pencils. He has started bringing one every day when he came out for fresh air and some inspiration. A smile spreads over the smaller face and a hand reaches for it eagerly. He holds it out of reach. "I'll give it to you if you sing me a song."

The small boy gives him a look of deep concentration, and then pipes out the words "Happy birthday to you!" a couple of times in random tones. Dean laughs.

"But it's not my birthday." He teases.

"But it's mine!" The little one pouts and reaches for the candy.

"Really? How old are you turning?" Dean places the prize in the small outstretched hand and closes his sketch book.

"I'm turning 28." He says rather seriously

Dean chuckles yet again. "What a big boy you are now! Why are you out here on your birthday?"

"I'm waiting for my uncle." He sits down on the ledge besides Dean, sticking his candy in his mouth. "He went to see Mommy."

Dean nods and takes his wrapper from him in case he litters, wondering what his uncle was doing, leaving a kid alone like this.

"He goes to see mommy on my birthday, he says it's the day she became an angel. But he didn't let me go with him today." The kid pouts and swings his legs. "I like the nice flowers there."

"Flowers?"

"Daniel?" An out of breath voice pants behind him just as he was going to ask further. Dean turns around and looks into the same pair of impossibly blue eyes, these holding the tell-tale signs of a good cry.

"Uncle Castiel!" Daniel shrieks in delight, spitting all over Dean.

The older man frowns and glances between Dean and the smaller boy. "Who's this?"

"It's my friend. His name is Dean. He draws pretty pictures."

"Daniel, let's go." He intones and reaches for the boy's hand tiredly.

"But, Un—?" Daniel protests, twisting out of reach before Dean pets his hair softly and pulls him in, whispers in his ear and smiles. Castiel looks cutely distressed. The boy nods and lets himself be dragged away, glancing back at the artist the entire way, but Dean had already gone back to sketching the sunlight dancing through the trees.

That next day, and the day after that, Castiel goes to snatch his nephew away from the suspicious stranger. Each time, it takes suspiciously longer for them to leave.

* * *

"Where are you going?"

"To see Dean! He said he was going to show me a picture he drew of Poppy."

"Poppy? You mean a bird?"

"A birdy. Poppy."

"Not all birdies are Poppy, Daniel."

"Mommy's birdy."

"That's right, only mommy's birdy is named Poppy."

Before Castiel could object, the kid was out the door. Grunting in frustration, he grabbs his jacket and followS. Huffing and puffing, he finally catches up when Daniel is all over Dean already, cooing at his sketch book.

"Daniel, don't run away like that!"

"It's Poppy, Uncle Cas!" He squeaks happily.

"I told you, Poppy is—"

He leans over to see. It's a woman leaning against a windowsill, holding a canary on her finger and smiling rather wistfully. It suddenly sucks all his breath from his lungs. It looked so much like...

"Gone. Poppy is gone. And who is this?" Castiel asks frantically.

"It's Poppy!" Daniel says again.

"She was my undergrad art teacher." Dean looks at Castiel with a smile. "Her name was Anna, and she had the most beautiful red hair and sinfully blue eyes. Why don't you sit down too?"

And Castiel sits. He sits and he listens to the giggles of a happy child and the soft words of a love story falling out of Dean's lips. Soon, Daniel is curled up on Dean's lap and he's fast asleep against Dean's chest, and Castiel finds himself shedding tears for his sister again, for what she had and what she lost. It's ironic, how the actions of one drunken stranger can ruin 4 people's lives. A lover, a brother, and a child of rape. And her own, taken by depression.

Castiel hiccups and Dean smiles endearingly. "Your eyes, they're just like hers. I could drown in them and never notice I've died and gone to heaven."

* * *

Months pass, and Castiel has stopped objecting to Daniel's visits. He has slowly fallen into the same routine, staying longer each time to look over Dean's shoulder at his sketches of carefree scenes. Each time, Dean would smile at him and crack a joke, or maybe throw out an incredibly cheesy pick up line they both know is more for Castiel's benefit than Dean's, and his mind will go a little hazy. He's not sure if he ever smiles back. It's too late when he realizes he does.

"Daniel, let's go see Dean."

"Okay. I made him a bracelet in school."

"Yeah? Let's go give it to him. I'm sure he'll love it."

And he does. Dean loves everything Daniel does. Castiel feels slightly ridiculous, spending his time zoning out at Dean's perfect profile, his addicting voice, his breathtaking grin. It's too late when he realizes that he's hooked.

* * *

"Can I go see Dean?"

"Definitely not! It's raining, and you've managed to acquire a cold."

"But I drew him a picture…" The boy sniffles.

Castiel sighs.

"I'll give it to him if you stay in bed." He bargains, grabbing an umbrella from the closet.

"… Okay. I think he'll like that."

And he does. Dean is sitting beneath the awning of a building, looking like he's deep in thought. Castiel sneaks up and shakes the water droplets from his umbrella over him out of spite, but a playful grin keeps creeping higher.

"Son of a-" Dean jumps up at the sudden shower and glares at him harmlessly. "Where's Daniel?"

"Sick." Castiel answers neutrally, disappointed that it's the first thing he asks. He takes out the drawing of something that looks like a person. "I brought you something."

Dean chuckles and his lips quirk into that dashing grin again, and takes the slightly rumpled paper from Castiel's hands. "It's rather tasteful. Thank you."

"Don't thank me, I'm just the messenger. Pay me."

"Oh, the lowly messenger." Dean laughs brightly, with eye crinkles and everything, and Castiel wants to punch him for being that way. "I don't have anything to pay you with I'm afraid."

Before Castiel can get a syllable out in retort, Dean leans in and kisses him. Not harsh, not tentative. A caress; a reassuring press. There's the light touch of a finger under his chin that's unbelievably loving.

And Castiel hates it. He hates that disliking it is not even an option, that it feels as if Poppy has gotten into his rib cage somehow, fluttering lightly. It's embarrassing but it's too late to push Dean away.

Too late because he is already kissing him back, and it's too late because Castiel has fallen hard. A long, long time ago.


End file.
